


Tell Sam

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drama, F/M, Purgatory, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Reader gets sucked into purgatory with Dean. She’s Sam’s girlfriend but months trapped with Dean leads to a passionate encounter.





	Tell Sam

There were scratches on your thighs from the bark of the log you slept against. Your shredded clothes barely covered your dignity but Dean’s body did the rest. A deep sense of shame washed over you as you cuddled into him, hating and loving the way his arm looped protectively around your waist.

“It’s dawn,” he grumbled, his eyes closed, mouth almost at your ear. The low timbre of his voice made you shudder and pull back to look up at him. “Not that it makes much difference.”

You didn’t speak, burrowing your face against his chest. After six months, you’d have thought both of you would stink to high heaven, and sure, you were filthy dirty but you could only smell Dean’s natural scent. That odd combination of sweat and blood, an iron tang on your tongue that lingered and made you crave more.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

The tears came thick and fast as you remembered every dirty little thing he’d done to you, right over the log shielding your back. His touch still made your insides sing, renewed arousal making you sigh against his bloodied shirt.

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “I just…” Looking up at him again, you couldn’t stop the tears that made tracks on your face. “Sam -”

“Isn’t here,” Dean grunted, cupping your cheek, leaning in to nuzzle your face to his. “He hasn’t tried to look for us, Y/N. It’s been six months.”

“We don’t know that,” you whispered, shaking your head. He grinned, shaking his head and brushing his lips over yours. “Dean, we shouldn’t -”

“Could die in five minutes, sweetheart,” he drawled, dragging his tongue over your lips, “rather go out with a smile on my face.” His hands were on your waist now, sliding up underneath your tattered shirt to cup your naked breasts. Your bra had been one of the first casualties of surviving in the wilderness.

“Dean -”

His name turned from a protest to a needy whine as Dean rolled you onto your back on the mossy ground, pushing your shirt up to get at your tits. He was greedy as he nipped at your flesh, leaving fresh bruises and opening old lacerations.

“You got no idea,” he murmured, pressing his hand between your bodies, seeking your womanhood through the rags of clothing, “how long I’ve wanted you, Y/N.”

You didn’t want to hear it but Dean’s weight had you pinned. Tears still fell from your lashes, washing away the dirt before soaking into your hair; yet you spread your legs eagerly for him, desperate to feel anything remotely human in the barren landscape around you.

“Watching you with him, all these years,” he grunted as his fingers sank into you, two thick digits spreading you open. “Shoulda been mine.”

A cry tore from your lips as his fingertips struck your sweet spot. Dean kept moving, kept mumbling words of affection against your skin as he fucked you with his fingers. Your senses were still aflame from the night before, fresh memories of your furious coupling that had lasted only minutes.

“Gonna make you cum,” Dean growled, biting at your throat. The sudden sensation made you shriek and in the next second, his other hand was over your mouth. “Ssh,” he murmured, lips against your ear, “don’t wanna attract anything this way.”

You gasped against his hand, knowing you were the worst at keeping quiet. Dean kept working his fingers into you as you whimpered and whined, writhing underneath him. When you came, your eyes rolled back and he pulled his hand away from your cunt, freeing his cock.

“Wanna be inside you again.” 

With one stroke, he was inside you, filling you completely and you shrieked into his hand as he picked up an immediate pace. Your back scraped against the hard floor, twigs catching in your hair but Dean didn’t stop, almost an animal with the way he rutted into you.

Your second orgasm was swift on the tails of the first and you screamed again.

Dean’s hips stuttered and he grunted, his whole body shaking as he came inside you for the second time, his thrusts slowing to an irregular shudder. He released his hold on your mouth; you gasped for breath, shivering underneath him.

“You should be mine,” he murmured, kissing your throat.

You didn’t answer.

*****

Coming through the portal was disorientating and when you landed in the darkness of the 100-Mile Wilderness, you immediately stumbled, crashing into the dewy grass. It was relief that bubbled out of your throat in a laughter, clutching the short green strands with your fingers and marveling at the moisture.

Purgatory had been very dry. Thirst and hunger constantly attacked you but the nature of the dimension rendered it necessary to eat or drink. Another form of torture, you’d theorized.

Dean didn’t speak when he landed behind you and as the portal closed, you shrieked, reaching out aimlessly. “Castiel!”

Strong arms pulled you away.

“He’s gone,” Dean growled, dragging you to your feet. “We need to move.”

Your bladder ached and you clutched at his arm, stopping him. “I need to pee.” He groaned his irritation at you, letting go of your elbow. Scampering off into the woods, you found a secluded spot and went about your business, wondering if you were finally peeing out whatever you’d drank a year ago.

There must have been a stasis of some sort in that place. 

But now you were back.

In the real world.

Where Sam was.

And you’d spent the last six months letting his brother fuck you against any surface he deemed useable.

Holding back the tears was difficult as you made your way back to Dean, following him through the trees when he turned and strode away. His shoulders were hunched and he remained silent - you knew he was thinking about what happened when you got wherever you were going.

What were you going to tell Sam?

How could you face him?

Dean stopped abruptly, turning to you, his weapon tight in his hand. “Wait here,” he instructed and you nodded, hugging yourself. It was cold here. You’d gotten so used to not feeling the elements, so used to not being hungry. Now it felt like your stomach was trying to claw its way out through your belly button.

There was a shriek, and a few moments later, Dean came running through the trees with a rucksack. He bolted past you and you followed, struggling to keep up on the rough terrain. When you fell, it took him a few moments to notice; he turned back with an irritated grunt, pulling you to your feet again.

“Keep up,” he ordered.

By the time you reached a road, you were exhausted, more than you’d ever felt in your life. It was what felt like hours before a ranger drove past, the headlights dim in the early morning sunrise.

“Dean,” you murmured, catching his attention as the ranger turned around to come back to you. “Look.” His eyes followed your gesture, reds and yellows lighting up his face with the breaking dawn. Neither of you had seen anything but cloudy gray skies for nearly twelve months - seeing the sun again was like a confirmation.

You were home.

The ranger accepted your story of a camping accident and drove you back to the station. From there, you and Dean set out on foot, hitchhiking to a small town just north of the Louisiana state line. With stolen cards, Dean booked a hotel room.

A shower had never been so relieving.

When you were clean and dry, dressed in fresh clothes, you threw yourself down on the bed, watching as Dean slipped through the door with a bucket of fried chicken.

“Breakfast?” he offered and you smiled, thankful for the Colonel’s secret blend as you tucked into the food. Dean disappeared off to the bathroom; a few moments later, you heard the shower running. Picking up a pick of chicken, you grabbed a napkin and slipped back onto the bed, turning the television on.

You’d missed the creature comforts of life. The shitty motel rooms and substandard cable. The low water pressure and funky smelling shampoo. Broken springs that dug into your back when you slept - although this mattress was fairly comfortable.

Lost in your appreciation of Kentucky Fried Chicken and comfortable beds, you didn’t notice the bathroom door open until Dean was almost on the bed. He was only wearing a towel and you squeaked as he rolled up against you.

“What are you doing?” 

A frown dipped his brow. “I thought -” He sighed. “Purgatory. You didn’t seem to mind then.”

“That was -” You fumbled, searching for the right word. “Different.”

“How?”

“It wasn’t real!” you insisted, scrambling off of the bed. “Dean, we can’t. We’re… I should never have let you -”

“ _ Let _ me?” Dean snarled, clutching his towel as he sat up, pointing at you. “You were begging me for it when I fucked you the last time. Screaming my name loud enough that two werewolves heard you miles away!”

You covered your face in shame at the thought of what he’d done to you - and you to him. In the harsh light of reality, you’d wanted every single second of it. You had begged and Dean had delivered.

“Sam,” you choked out his brother’s name, “I can’t -”

“We already did.” Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Dean got to his feet, advancing on you. He didn’t stop until his nose was only an inch from yours, his minty breath ghosting over your lips. “I’ve been  _ inside _ you, Y/N. And you loved every second of it.”

Shivers ran up your spine as he pressed in closer, grinding his erection into your belly through the towel. “Dean, this is wrong.”

“He didn’t look for us,” he growled, lowering his mouth to capture yours in a kiss. “We’re here. We’ve been together this whole time.” His hands slipped around your waist, his towel slacking a little, showcasing the defined  _ v _ that sloped down to his groin. “He’ll understand.”

You wanted to shake your head, deny his words. Sam wouldn’t understand. How could you expect him to?

Instead, you returned Dean’s kisses, eagerly licking into his mouth as he unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs, letting his towel fall at the same time. Lifting you up into his arms, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the heat of his cock through your panties.

“You’re mine now,” Dean murmured. You kissed him as he carried you to the bed, both of you falling onto the surprisingly comfortable mattress.

Dean’s mouth covered your left breast, sucking the nipple between his teeth. Arching and whining, you wrapped your legs around him, grinding yourself against his dick. He growled, releasing your nipple with a soft wet plop, turning his attention to the other.

With one hand, he dragged your panties down, following their descent until he was hanging half off of the bed, his face between your thighs. The first touch of his tongue made you jerk and Dean pinned your legs with his big hands, burying his tongue in your slit. He moaned lavisciously, thrusting the organ into you until you were whimpering quietly.

Turning his attention to your clit, he sucked the swollen and sensitive bud between his lips, worrying it with his teeth. You lurched and cried out, reaching for him and tugging his short hair with your fingers. Dean growled against you, applying more pressure until you were keening and squirming to try and escape the intense pleasure.

“Ah-ah,” he scolded as you shifted up the bed, using his superior strength to drag you back down, resuming his attack on your clit.

“D-Dean!” you squeaked, hips rolling against his mouth as he forced you to cum.

He was grinning like an idiot when he crawled back up your body, kissing you with the taste of your pussy on his lips. You groaned into his mouth, licking at his tongue, the sloppy wet sounds of your kisses echoing off the shoddily decorated motel room wall.

“You want me,” Dean growled, cupping your face with one hand, the other between your bodies, lining his cock up with your soaked hole. “You want this.”

“Yes,” you hissed, feeling his cockhead nudge your folds.

Dean seizing your mouth again, sinking into you with one thrust, his hand abandoning your face to pull your leg up, coaxing you to wrap it around his waist. The angle of his penetration changed; you moaned into Dean’s mouth, clutching his shoulders as he started to fuck you into the mattress.

He was ruthless and brutal, just like he’d been there. This was the Dean that had been forged by purgatory, rough and hard at the edges, sharp enough to cut. It was intense passion that fuelled this, the kind that would only burn you up from the inside out.

You were crying when you came for him, burying your head in his chest. Dean didn’t see your tears, too focused on the pleasure of your body surrounding his. His climax came quickly and he slumped against you, burying his face in your shoulder as he panted.

Shielding your face from him was easier than you thought. Dean pulled away, retreating to clean up as you rolled onto your side, not caring about the slowly expanding wet spot underneath you. When Dean returned to the bed, he curled up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist protectively.

You’d slept together like that every night for the last year. It was almost instinctive to lean into his body, to accept the offer of comfort.

But you couldn’t.

Dean fell asleep quickly and with a little nudge, he rolled over onto his back, releasing you from his hold. You climbed from the bed, turning to check he hadn’t stirred. He snorted in his sleep and you smiled, forgetting yourself for a moment.

This wouldn’t work. It didn’t matter whether Sam had looked for you or not - you’d betrayed him with his own brother. Things would be better for them if you left. Started again somewhere else.

Grabbing the few things you had, you scribbled out a quick note to Dean, knowing it would be a few days before he saw Sam anyway. He still had to release Benny back into his body and he didn’t need you around to do that.

By the time he woke up, you’d be the next county over, and neither Winchester would have to see you again.

You wouldn’t hunt again.

Leaving the note on the pillow next to Dean, you stared at him for a few moments. It hurt, to walk away, but it would hurt more if you stayed. You truly loved both of them… which was why it would never work. Dean would recover, Sam would too. This was better.

At least, you’d keep telling yourself that.

The door clicked shut on your old life.

Dean rolled over, knocking the note onto the covers. He snored away, unaware he was alone in bed. He’d wake hours later and find the note, inches from his nose, the words blurry until his eyes adjusted.

_ Tell Sam I didn’t make it. _


End file.
